It's been about two days since that conversation. You got in touch with the right ponies. You have a paddle in your hand with some serious heft. You're just in boxers, staring in the mirror of the master bathroom. You told her to get on the bed and wait for you. This may not be your first night as a dom. But this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before.

The parameters are simple in theory. Spank until she cries. The problem is in the request itself. Maud never cries. You've only seen her crack a smile once. Even then? That was a faint one. That was when you agreed to move in with her. You can't help but feel like this is... unsafe.

To clarify, if she tells you to stop. You keep going. If she begs. You keep going. If she bleeds… If you feel a crunch...

She has a few days she can afford to put off work. She'd been stockpiling gems for something like this, so she can recover from the bruising.

The amount of trust she's putting into you in this moment is… terrifying. Would you allow someone else to do this to you?

That’s not really the point, is it?

This is your role. This is your job. You are her Dom. Even if the two of you never do something like this again, you must play your part. She was adamant about this. You have to do this right. You straighten yourself in the mirror, take a deep breath, and center your mind.

This is for her.

No matter what happens, don't stop. Just like she said.

You exit the door, and Maud lays on the bed, presenting herself up in the air.

"Last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?" you ask, feeling a part of you shrivel inside. You do your best not to let it show. You must be strong for her.

"Yes," she says flatly.

You place the paddle on the bed in front of her, for her to see. Taunting. Threatening. The two of you picked it out together, but this was supposed to... raise tension, according to Rarity. You then move to a drawer and pull out a long, industrial strength rope. Just like you've practiced, you tie knots around her hooves, then around her hind legs, and then to the bedpost. Now, even if her leg muscles fail her, you can keep going. You reach for the same drawer for where you grabbed the rope and pull out a knife. This is not to hurt her. This is to cut the rope, and get her free as quickly as possible for aftercare.

You take a deep breath. This is emotional therapy. Focus.

You raise a hand, and slap her rear.

Nothing.

“Turn your head so I can see your face,” you command. She obeys.

You raise your hand, then slap again, the fleshy smack echoing off the walls of the room. Maud stares at you, remaining as calm as ever.

“Not enough?” you ask.

“No,” she replies.

You flex your fingers to strike with your knuckles, creating a sharper, piercing sting, as opposed to a dull slap. Your hand comes down hard. Harder than you meant. You can feel as your palm strikes against her hind bones. Her face remains as nonplussed as ever. You can feel your hand begin to redden.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re enjoying this,” you growl.

“Not really,” she says flatly.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Anon, you really don’t have to do all of the aggressive sexy talk. I’m not really doing this for sexual pleasure.”

You sigh and shake your head.

“Like, I’m just trying to feel powerful here. This really isn’t something that’s super easy for me.”

“Then just do it,” she says. “Besides, I can see you holding your wrist like it’s hurt.”

“Well,” you want to retort and defend your semi-broken manhood, but let’s face facts for a second. You hurt your hand trying to spank a small marshmallow horse. You don’t really get a defense.

Except that she breaks rocks with her bare hooves. So that’s something.

You grab the paddle and sigh to yourself.

“Alright then,” you say. Without warning, you bring the paddle down on Maud’s ass. It collides with a solid slap that rings in your ears. Your amazed at the amount of noise it created with so little force.

Maud blinks.

“That wasn’t fun,” she says.

“Yeah?” you say.

You raise your weapon up, and slam it down once more.

“Well how do you like that?” you ask, feeling that confidence return once more.

She blinks again. Her behind is notably changing color as the blood rises to the surface of her skin. This is going to bruise. Well, you suppose you already knew that.

“I really don’t,” she says.

“Too fucking bad.” You raise the paddle again and bring it down once more. Another crack. Her body flinches. She blinks twice. You can see her hooves pull on her restraints.

You raise the paddle again, and down, once again. Again. Again.

You swallow the saliva in your mouth as you can feel each of the muscles in your arm flex and relax. You breathe, and you can hear her breath quicken. Her expression is unmoved.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” she says.

“Too fucking bad,” you say.

You raise the paddle, and strike her once more.

“Ouch,” she says.

Her rear is becoming noticeably purple. Her tail hangs limply to the side, not even attempting to cover herself. You aren’t sure if the erection in your pants is from arousal, or the sheer exercise of force and power. Either way, you know that isn’t what you’re here for. This is about her emotional release. Not a physical one.

“Music to my ears,” you answer.

You raise the paddle once more and bring it down harder than before. What was supposed to be a near slick slap, was a dull collision. The vibrations reverberate back in an unusual way. You were warned about this. That was bone.

“Ouch, Stop,” she says.

You raise the paddle once more, and bring it down in the same spot. The same dull thud. You close your eyes. Doing it like this doesn’t give you any sort of pleasure. A lump lodges itself in your throat.

“That hurts,” she responds. “Stop.”

“No.”

You raise the paddle in the air.

“Anon, I said stop.”

You bring it down with as much force as you can muster. Another wet slap. But it’s wet for a different reason. You look down, noticing that the paddle slid in an unusual way.

She gasps in pain.

A trickle of blood runs down her left hind leg.

You turn away for a moment. You take a deep breath. For some reason, you hoped this wouldn’t happen. That she’d break down and cry over her father being hurt way earlier than this. However, this is Maud Pie we’re talking about. You should have known better.

“Anon, this this isn’t going to work,” Maud says, her voice breathier than normal. “Let’s just stop here.”

You release your deep breath.

You grip the paddle with both hands. With a few quick strides, you’re beside her once more. Wielding the paddle like a baseball bat, you swing for the bleachers.

Maud’s gasp fills the room. A small spatter of blood splashes onto your skin. The collision covers her whole rear end. Including her delicate spots. You feel your shoulders revolt at the lack of follow through from the swing.

You ignore them as you reel back once more.

“Please,” she says, raising her voice.

You swing.

She gasps again. She coughs. She closes her eyes and tries to catch her breath.

“Please stop, Anon,” she says, “it-”

Before she can finish her words, you strike her again. And again.

The blood runs in a thin, steady stream, thinly layering her rear and the paddle itself. You’ve opened the wound further. Her privates are nearly a purple, swollen… you’d prefer not to envision that.

You bite your lip, feeling a guilt pooling inside you. You try to swallow that lump, but it follows you. Stalks your decision. You’re a horrible boyfriend. Look at what you’re doing to her. Just stop. You’re a terrible person. You fucking pathetic failure of human flesh.

You raise the paddle and strike the pony you love most. She bleeds onto the bed. Needlessly. She bleeds because she wants to break. Do you think she bleeds for you, you sick fuck? No. You’re crossing a line.

You raise the paddle and strike her again.

“Please stop,” she says, her voice cracking.

“That’s not crying.”

You raise the paddle and strike again. The slap hisses in your ear. You feel a slip. A crunch. A snap.

She gasps louder than ever, her voice quietly moans. You’ve broken a part of her. Some bone. Something is badly hurt.

She should see a doctor.

“Stop,” she mumbles. “Please.”

You strike her again.

She screams out in pain and breathes through clenched teeth.

“Get out of my house,” she growls. “I never want to see you again. Stop it.”
You strike her again. A loud crack rings through the room. Then, a dull thud.

You hold the handle in your hand, as the paddle falls to the floor. A red stain gently sinks into the carpet. Maud’s body releases, and her muscles give away.

She gently whimpers from the pain, her face buried into a pillow. Blood runs down her legs. You grit your teeth.

“It… broke?” she asks. You can hear hope in her voice. A fragility. Almost as if she were made of glass right now.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice low.

“Okay then,” she says, her voice becoming more calm. “Untie me then. I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“No.”

A silence falls over the room as you turn around.

“What?” she yells after you as you step out of the room. “Wait, Wait!”

You know what you need to do. The scene doesn’t end until she cries. You walk into the hallway. Step down the hall. Into the kitchen. Pull your weapon out of a drawer. Then return.

You pull the pillows away from her. Her eyes look up at you in terror.

You are officially the worst boyfriend she’s ever had. You will probably never see her again after this. You’ve pushed this too far.

You toss a meat tenderizer, with metal tips on the bed in front of her eyes.

“You’ve had enough of a break,” you say.

“No… No,” she chokes.

You grab the hammer from in front of her face.

This is your last chance.

You move behind her where she can’t see what you’re doing.

“ANON. STOP. STOP IT RIGHT NOW.”

You set the hammer on the ground and pick up the broken paddle.

You only have one shot at this.

You raise the paddle over your head. And swing it down with all of your might.

Her scream cries out through the room, and then, silence.

You focus your voice into a low-evil growl. You try to pour every bit of malice you’ve ever felt into one phrase. One phrase that, if it works, will set her free.

“This is what you deserve.”

Silence.

Then, a whimper. Two short gasps of air. A choking cough. And then, a pained, exasperated cry escapes Maud’s lips.

You grab the knife and immediately cut the ropes down. Her body brokenly falls on the bed, as if lifeless. Her only movement is from the heaves of her sobs. Her voice fills the room as she openly and freely wails. You cover her with a thick blanket and pull her in close to you. She can’t even resist as you feel her tears fall against your chest.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“It’s not… It’s… It’s not okay,” she cries, trying to shoot out words through her gasps for breath. “I’m… I’m worthless.”

“You’re not worthless,” you whisper.

“I.. I can’t... even cry i-if my dad is about to die,” she sniffs and hyperventilates, her hooves limply pushed against you, snot dribbling down your chest. “What kind of daughter am I?”

“One that he loves very, very much,” you whisper in her folded ears. “And you know it.”

“N-no he doesn’t. It’s about the farm,” she spits angrily. The venom in her voice could kill an army. “It’s always the farm. It’s always about the farm and the family. And Limestone just makes it all worse. Even if he dies it’ll still be about the farm and family. Farm and family.”

Her tears trail to the bedsheets. You feel your legs lay in a warm pool of liquid, her physical body failing to control even basic functions.

“He gets hurt and he doesn’t even go to the hospital,” she growls. “Where was he when I always got hurt? I could just die and he wouldn’t even care.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“No,” she continues. “It is. You know it is. Do you know the times I’ve tried? The times I’ve thought about ending it? How shallow everything is? There is nothing for me here. What is even the point?”

You pause, listening to her words. You never had any idea she felt like… this.

“If it weren’t for Marble and Pinkie, maybe I would be. Just dead in a ditch somewhere and he’d go, ‘well it’s time to hire some help,’”

“You know that isn’t true,” you say.

“I just…” she tries to create words… but all that comes out is a mess of sounds as she moves her hooves just to pull herself closer to you. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close. The wails of her voice echo in the cavern of your embrace.

“I’m awful for feeling this way,” she whimpers. “Like I’m better off dead. Maybe I should be.”

“No,” you interrupt. “You will NOT speak to yourself that way again, do you understand,” you growl. “You are loved. And I love you. And I’ve got you right here. I am not letting you go. You are safe. You are secure.”

She sobs quietly into your arms. Listening. Her mind is weak, frail. Putty in your hands.

“Even if your father has made mistakes in the past, I know he loves you, and cares about you. And he’s proud of you. You have reservations about him. All family does. But it does not make you weak or a bad pony for not being able to express complex emotions. Nothing anypony thinks matters or should make you feel bad for being who you are.”

She pulls you closer to her, and you grip her tightly. Your mind flashes to the first aid kit in the bathroom. The wounds on her rear are still very treatable, but you should definitely still go to an emergency room for the bone break-

“Please don’t leave me.”

You blink, and every thought you had fades away. It can all wait.

“I would never dream of it.”

Her sobs continue on, and on, but you keep holding her. You gently whisper in her ear that you love her, and that you’ve got her. That she’s safe. That she’s going to be okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Author's Note

btw none of this is healthy kink.